"Morning, Martha. Usual?" The aroma of fresh bread wafted through the air as the bell above the door chimed. "Morning, dear. Yes, please. Any news on the old mill?" Martha's hands, dusted with flour, kneaded the dough on the counter. "Still closed. Sheriff's been poking around, though. Heard they found something odd in there." The barista poured steaming coffee into a mug. "Odd? Like what?" Martha paused, eyebrows raised. "Don't know. But it's got him buzzing like a bee in a bottle." The barista chuckled, sliding the coffee across the counter. "Here you go." Martha took a sip, her eyes thoughtful. "Well, I hope it's nothing too disturbing. We've had enough of that in this town."